[Original: August 2009/Updated 2022]
Chapters: 5
Word Count: 32,654
​
Warnings: Angst
​
FULL CIRCLE
by
Eleanor Ward
A sequel to ‘Thicker than Water.’
Heyes and Kid's friendship is tested to the limit when the past comes back to haunt them.
​
Texas, 1888
Rain drizzled from a grey autumn sky as a lone figure walked along the deserted town streets, pushing his hat further down on his head and pulling the collar of his coat up closer to his neck to keep out the damp.
The number of buildings grew less until, eventually, he left them all behind, but he didn’t look up, just kept on walking until, presently, a wrought iron gateway blocked his path and brought him to a halt. Lifting his head, his gaze settled on the word ‘cemetery’ written in iron letters suspended within the framework.
He stood, momentarily, looking at the sign, before hesitantly pushing open the gate and going inside where he stood, glancing around, unsure which path to take. It was beginning to rain harder now, the water dripping off the brim of his hat as he looked this way and that, trying to work out which direction to go.
Presently, he decided on a path and set off. A few minutes later, his step slowed to a halt when he saw what he was looking for up ahead, a Dogwood tree.
He stood there, looking at it, for several moments before beginning to walk slowly towards it, his expression apprehensive. There, nestled under its reddish-purple leaves was his destination, a solitary grave with a simple wooden marker.
Ducking under a low hanging tree branch he moved to stand at the foot of the grave, his face sombre as memories of his last visit here flooded into his mind. How long ago was it? Longer than he cared to admit, yet, as he stood here now, it seemed like only yesterday.
He had thought never to come here again after that last visit, the memories too painful. Then had come a message, a request for a meeting, here, in this town. A meeting long overdue and, once here, he’d found himself drawn here, to this place, by a subconscious force, stronger than his conscious will, unable to stay away despite the memories he knew it would revive.
He stood there for several moments, in silent contemplation, before stepping around to the side of the grave and going down on one knee near the head, reaching out a hand to place it in the centre of the grassy mound as though to make a connection with the body that lay below.
He knelt there for some time, head bowed, lost in his thoughts, oblivious to the rain that continued to come down, running down the back of his neck and inside his coat to wet his shirt and underclothes.
Eventually, chilled by the dampness, a shiver brought him out of his reverie. Reaching into his coat he pulled out his pocket watch, realizing that he needed to leave if he wanted to get to the meeting at the agreed hour.
Getting to his feet, he lingered a moment longer before turning to leave, his step faltering as he saw a solitary figure standing on the path a few yards away, feet apart, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, his wide brimmed hat pulled low on his forehead against the rain.
He made to walk on by, assuming the stranger to be just another visitor coming to pay his respects to a loved one, but then stopped, in surprise, as his eyes connected with those of the now familiar figure who stood before him.
For a long moment neither spoke. Then, finally, the man drew in a tremulous breath, one word coming from his lips.
“Kid..!”
Three years earlier…
​
It was a typical Friday night in the Golden Slipper saloon. Tobacco smoke hung in the air and a piano player valiantly hammered out tunes on an old, out of tune, piano to a largely unheeding clientele which consisted mainly of local farmers and businessmen as well as various cowboys and travellers passing through from El Paso, in the north, to Fort Hancock and various other towns en route to San Antonio in the south east.
At the bar, a blonde haired man leaned casually against the counter, a glass of whisky held loosely in his left hand. To the casual observer he appeared to have no particular interest in anything going on in the saloon, but his keen blue eyes surreptitiously took in every detail; from the town drunk trying, and failing, to weedle a free drink from the bartender, to the addicted gambler wagering the last of his money on yet another spin of the wheel of fortune in the hope that this one might be that elusive lucky spin, to the eight men participating in a poker game in the corner of the room.
The other men at the bar paid the blonde man no mind, probably assuming him to be just another cowboy in between jobs. Had they any inkling that the unassuming stranger calling himself Thaddeus Jones was none other than Jed ‘Kid’ Curry, wanted outlaw with a $10,000 reward on his head, their reaction would likely have been a little less hospitable.
Curry’s gaze flicked briefly across to where his partner, Hannibal Heyes - alias Joshua Smith - sat, playing poker, appearing disinterested to the point of boredom yet alert to any sign of trouble and ready to step in, in order to protect Heyes and himself.
After a dubious private investigator had hired them to tail one of his client’s husbands, to obtain proof of his adultery, and had then vanished without paying them their fee, they had reluctantly spent the last month on a cattle drive to earn some much needed cash. After collecting their pay they’d arrived here, in the town of San Elizario, where they had spent a pleasant three days relaxing in the comfort of a fairly good quality hotel and enjoying everything that San Elizario had to offer. Having been absorbed into El Paso from Chihuahua in 1848, San Elizario was a good sized town affording a diverse array of entertainments to appeal to the many people living there, or passing through en route to other places, and Curry and Heyes had found plenty with which to amuse themselves and planned to spend a couple more weeks here before heading north, before the heat of midsummer became too intense.
Watching the poker game with a practiced casuality, Curry’s body stiffened slightly as he noted a change in his partner’s demeanour, a change that would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but to Curry, who knew every nuance of his partner’s moods and mannerisms, it was as clear as someone waving a red flag.
He watched with a controlled apprehension as Heyes played out his hand before excusing himself from the game and, picking up his winnings, bade the men good evening before heading towards the exit. Momentarily meeting Curry’s gaze he silently indicated for him to follow him outside.
Tossing down the rest of his drink, Curry put some money down on the counter to pay for the liquor he’d consumed before casually heading outside after Heyes.
Pushing out through the batwing doors, he crossed to join him on the boardwalk.
“What?” he asked simply, a frown creasing his brow.
Heyes put his hand on Curry’s forearm.
“Kid, I think we need to leave town, as soon as possible.”
“Why?”
“Did you see that guy sitting opposite to me in the game?” asked Heyes.
“The red haired guy?”
Heyes nodded, “I recognized him as soon as he joined the game. He’s Gabriel Quinlan.”
Curry's eyebrows rose. “The Gabriel Quinlan who robbed that bank, in Arizona, a couple of months back, and killed a teller and the Manager?”
“One and the same.” replied Heyes, his dark eyes glittering with disgust.
“I didn’t know you knew him.”
“I don’t.” Heyes shook his head, “I saw him once, when I first rode with the Plummer gang, but I don’t know him, I’m glad to say, and I hope he doesn’t know me. Or you.” He looked at Curry now, “Whatever reason he’s in town for, you can bet it means trouble, and the further away we are from whatever it is, when it happens, the better. If our names even get mentioned in the same breath as his in the governor’s office, we can kiss our amnesty goodbye!”
Curry grunted, cynically. “If the governor ever gets around to honouring his promise!” he said sarcastically, Several reviews of their amnesty application had already taken place since the governor had proposed his original deal - of them staying out of trouble for a one year period whereupon he would consider granting them an amnesty from their crimes - and still he was giving them the runaround, saying that the current political climate prohibited him from honouring his promise.
“Yeah,” agreed Heyes, “but what choice do we have? We can’t break our end of the bargain now, no matter how long he drags his feet for…”
“I know.” Curry cut in brusquely, not wanting to hear a repeat of Heyes’ regular speech about why they had to stick with their end of their deal with the governor. A speech that was starting to wear thin even to Heyes’ ears.
“So, what say we get some sleep and head out in the morning?” said Heyes, “The further away we can get from Quinlan and his men the better I’ll feel. That guy has been robbing and killing people across Arizona and New Mexico for years. When the law does catch up with him he’ll hang for sure, unless he gets killed in the taking.”
Curry nodded, “Or unless he kills them first.” he quipped, as they both turned and headed towards their hotel.
Heyes raised his eyebrows in a gesture of agreement.
They reached their hotel and went upstairs to their room in a companionable, yet thoughtful, silence.
As they undressed and climbed into their respective beds, Curry said, “Heyes, I know I complain about the governor dragging his feet on granting our amnesty, and having to keep our heads down and scratch a living, but, even if we don’t get it in the end, I wouldn’t go back to outlawin’ now, not with the likes of Quinlan out there. People like him give people like us a bad name.”
Heyes tilted his head on one side and eyed him with a rueful grin.
“Glad to hear it, Kid. Glad to hear it.” he said, before blowing out the lamp.
“Heyes?” Curry's voice came out of the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“How much did you win in that poker game tonight?”
“A hundred bucks or so.”
“Was any of it Quinlan’s?”
“A little. Around thirty bucks I’d guess. Why?”
“Well, if it was a lot, he’d have a reason to remember your face now, wouldn’t he?”
There was a moment’s silence as Heyes considered the implications of Curry’s comment.
“You’re right, Kid.” he said presently, “Good job I was having an off day then, huh?” he quipped.
Curry tutted good humouredly. “Whatever you say, Heyes. Goodnight.”
“’night, Kid.”
* * *
The following morning, Heyes and Curry headed over to the restaurant to eat breakfast while they discussed where to go next.
Having made their plans, they paid for their food and left the restaurant, Curry heading down to the General Store to purchase supplies while Heyes headed up to the telegraph office to send a wire to Lom to let him know their whereabouts.
In the General Store, Curry browsed the shelves, enjoying the coolness of the building and the mixed aromas that permeated the atmosphere, of coffee and tea, lavender and other herbs and spices.
As well as foodstuffs, the store also sold fabrics and wool and as Curry strolled passed a rack of shelving containing dress making material his attention was drawn to a familiar voice on the other side of the rack.
Stopping, he turned to peer between the bales of fabric stacked on the shelves, his jaw falling open in shock at the sight before him.
* * *
“That’ll be $1.20.” the telegraph operator held out his hand for payment after sending Heyes’ wire to Lom.
Heyes handed over the money and exited the office, pausing momentarily on the boardwalk, enjoying the morning sunshine on his face as he scanned the street for any sign of Quinlan, relieved not to see any.
He set off towards the General Store where he’d arranged to meet Curry and then they would head on up to the livery, with their supplies, to pick up their horses. He couldn’t imagine what had brought Quinlan to Texas – as far as Heyes knew he’d never ventured this far east before – but whatever the reason was, it was sure to mean trouble. Quinlan had killed at least a dozen people to Heyes’ knowledge and he would feel a whole lot better being in a different town, and preferably a different state, when whatever Quinlan had planned went down.
He reached the General Store and headed inside in search of Curry. As he entered, he could see him, at the far end of the store, talking to somebody, but, after coming into the dark building from the bright sunshine outside, he was initially unable to make out their identity. He couldn’t hear their words, but Curry's stance was tense.
Suspecting a problem, Heyes approached, cautiously, his mind already working on possible ways to try and talk them out of whatever trouble there might be.
As he approached, Curry turned to look at him with an oddly anxious expression and agitated demeanour and Heyes had the distinct feeling that he didn’t want him to be there.
He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but then, as his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light inside the store and he saw who Curry was talking to, stopped dead in his tracks with a gasp of shock.
“Veronica!” he spoke her name on a whisper, his mind going back in time to their last meeting, in El Paso, more than two years ago. If anything she was more beautiful than he remembered.
At the sound of her name, Veronica turned, sharply, to look at him, and Heyes felt that familiar sensation akin to being punched in the chest as his eyes met hers.
Their gazes locked and for a moment it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Then, she shifted her gaze to something down at her side and, as Heyes followed the direction of her eyes he saw a small child clinging to her skirt.
His stomach did a cartwheel and his legs threatened to give way beneath him as he took in the child’s curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes that looked innocently up at him. There was no need to ask who his father was.
​
Curry, who had been watching Heyes anxiously, reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Joshua…” he began, quietly, but Heyes turned on his heel and practically ran out of the store, grabbing hold of a wooden pillar to keep himself upright, his mind screaming “Why his and not mine?”
He could hear Curry's footsteps heading towards the door and his called “Joshua, wait…” but he couldn’t face talking to him right now and so he hurriedly disappeared around the corner of the store and just kept on walking, having no idea where he was going, his mind full of the image of the cherubic child that he wished with all of his heart was his.
He walked for hours, his mind in turmoil, before, eventually, exhausted and emotionally traumatized he found himself back outside the hotel they’d been staying in. He entered on impulse, too tired to walk any more, and too drained to give any thought to where else to go or what else to do other than find a bed, lay down and sleep, to escape his emotional torment, for a while at least. Inside, he found Curry sitting on a sofa in the lobby. After spending most of the day searching for Heyes, it had been his last hope that he might find his way back here.
As Heyes entered, he stood up, looking both relieved and apprehensive, and without a word ushered him upstairs to the room they’d checked out of that morning but which Curry had re-booked. He opened the door and stood aside to allow Heyes to precede him into the room.
“I’ve been looking for you all day.” he said, as he closed the door after them.
Heyes said nothing, taking off his hat and dropping it onto the dresser before sitting down on the edge of one of the two beds, hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between then, his gaze fixed vacantly on the floorboards.
Curry eyed him with concern.
“Heyes?” he said presently, “Are you O.K?”
Heyes gave a cynical snort.
“Oh sure, I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be!” he retorted bitterly. Raising anguished eyes to Curry's he could see his concern, but, at the same time, he had a look in his eyes that only someone who’d just found out he had a son could have, and for a moment Heyes just wanted to hit him.
“I’m sorry, Heyes.” Curry said quietly, as he noted the flash of antipathy that lit briefly in his eyes.
With a brief shake of his head, Heyes gave a deep sigh and returned his gaze to the floor.
Neither spoke for several moments, the atmosphere heavy with tension.
Curry was the first to break the silence.
“I spoke to Veronica…” he ventured hesitantly. When Heyes made no reply he continued.
“She said she found out she was expecting just a few weeks after we left town…”
Still Heyes remained staring at the floor, so Curry pressed on, pacing the room as he recounted what she had told him.
“…She moved here, to San Elizario, before she began to show, to avoid the scandal of an unmarried birth. She let the locals believe that her husband died shortly after she became pregnant. She only comes into town on Saturdays, to get her groceries, so it was a one in a million chance that she should be in the store at the same time as us.”
He stopped pacing now and turned to face Heyes.
“I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
Heyes’ head snapped up, looking at Curry in disbelief, barely able to catch his breath as that feeling of being punched in the chest hit him once again.
“What?” he croaked, his voice sounding strangled.
“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Curry said again.
“You can’t be serious?” snapped Heyes.
“I’m sorry, Heyes. I know how much Veronica meant to you, and I know how hard all this must be on you… but the child is my son, and I need to do the right thing by him and give him my name. Surely you can understand that?”
“You’re crazy.” muttered Heyes, shaking his head. It had been bad enough just thinking of them seeing each other, but the knowledge that they now had a child together, and the idea of them getting married and setting up a home somewhere, as a family, was just too much for him to deal with so soon.
Seeing Heyes’ anguish Curry said, “Look, this has been a big shock for both of us. Let’s sleep on it and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
When Heyes didn’t reply he said, “Do you want to go down to the restaurant for a bite to eat?”
Heyes shook his head. “No.” How Curry could even consider eating right now was beyond him. He felt as though his insides had been ripped out and the mere suggestion of food made his stomach turn over, “You go if you want.” he muttered, his gaze once again fixed on the floorboards.
Curry eyed him anxiously.
“I won’t be long.” he told him, but Heyes wasn’t listening and so he picked up his hat and quietly left the room, partly to go and get dinner but mostly because he just couldn’t face seeing Heyes so crushed. He remembered how devastated Heyes had been when he’d ended his relationship with Veronica, and he was desperately sorry to be the one responsible for this new anguish and wished there was some way to resolve the situation, but at the same time he couldn’t ignore his responsibilities to his new found son.
In the restaurant, he ordered a beef stew which he then only picked at, his mind full of images of the golden haired child he’d seen that morning – Jack, Veronica had told him his name was – his child! Even now he could scarcely believe it, or the feelings that the knowledge brought out in him. Powerful feelings of love and protection that he’d never experienced before.
Veronica had been equally shocked to see him in the store, and even more so when Heyes had walked in. Even though she’d claimed to love them both equally Curry could tell, when she’d looked at Heyes, that there was still that extra special spark between them.
After Heyes had left the store, there had been an uncomfortable atmosphere between them, but he had finally managed to persuade her to give him her address and he had promised to be in touch once he’d spoken to Heyes.
Veronica was at first reluctant to divulge her address. It had taken her more than two years to reconcile her feelings about Joshua and Thaddeus and get some kind of normality back in her life and she didn’t want to rake it all up again. But, eventually, against her better judgement, she allowed Thaddeus to convince her that he should be a part of the child’s life and had given in to his request to visit her to discuss the future, and had given him her address. Indeed there seemed little point in withholding it. Thaddeus, and Joshua too, could easily track her down if they put their minds to it. Now that Thaddeus knew about Jack she didn’t expect he would just walk away and forget he existed.
Only now, as he sat in the restaurant picking at his food, trying to work out the best thing to do, did Curry begin to realise what his vow was going to cost not only him, but Heyes and Veronica too.
When he finally arrived back at their hotel room Heyes appeared to be asleep in bed, but he knew that he was just pretending to be asleep so that he wouldn’t have to talk to him, and he decided to play along with his deception in order to give them both time to take in the day’s events and try to get to grips with their implications. Quietly he undressed and climbed into bed.
In his own bed, Heyes listened to the familiar sounds as Curry prepared for bed and eventually his even breathing indicated he’d fallen asleep. Heyes envied his ability to sleep regardless of whatever problems were on his mind. He himself had never enjoyed that luxury. In the dark night hours, when the rest of the world slept, his mind would be wide awake, working on plans, or solutions to problems, or else haunting him with demon visions from the past, and tonight was no exception as his mind went back over his ill-fated relationship with Veronica.
Although he’d stepped aside to give Curry his own chance with her, in his heart he still felt like Veronica was his, and even though there was no way he could have continued with the relationship after she’d betrayed him, the idea of her having a relationship with Curry, or anyone else, still tore him apart.
He remembered the night he’d given Curry his blessing to continue seeing Veronica. As soon as he had left to go and see her, Heyes had checked out of the hotel and bolted, to Lom’s. Curry had asked him, earlier that night, if he loved Veronica and Heyes had told him he wasn’t sure what the word meant. But on that journey up to Porterville, feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, he’d realised it’s meaning then.
​
Curry had followed him up to Lom’s a few days later and told him he’d ended the relationship, saying he couldn’t go on seeing her knowing how Heyes felt about her. It had taken Heyes a long time to get over Veronica, and his and Curry’s relationship had been strained for a while, but, eventually, things had got back on an even keel as the more pressing issues of staying away from trouble and out of jail had taken precedence – until today.
Heyes gave a heavy sigh as the image of the golden haired child clinging to his Mother’s skirts pushed its way into his mind.
It was a 50/50 chance as to which of them could have fathered the child, but there was no doubt he was Curry's son and Heyes was broken hearted that it wasn’t him, and consumed with jealousy at the thought of Curry and Veronica being together, and he was afraid of what this was going to do to his and Curry's relationship. Did he think that he could marry Veronica and set up home with her and that Heyes would just hang around on the sidelines watching them play happy families? Heyes didn’t want them to split up, but there was no way he could do that.
He wrestled with the dilemma well into the early hours and wasn’t aware of having fallen asleep until the sounds of Curry washing and shaving woke him the next morning.
“Morning.” Curry eyed him through the mirror.
“Morning.” muttered Heyes as he yawned and raked his hands through his hair. He lay staring up at the ceiling while Curry finished his ablutions, his mind returning to the situation with Veronica.
“You coming for breakfast?” Curry asked, as he patted his face dry and pulled on his shirt and vest.
“I’m not hungry.” muttered Heyes, watching Curry with baleful eyes as he put on his coat and checked his gun, giving it a routine twirl before replacing it in his holster.
“You need to eat, Heyes.” Curry reproached him, “You missed lunch, and dinner too, yesterday.”
Heyes gave a vague shrug.
Curry gave a deep sigh, “Heyes, I know how you’re feeling, but sulking isn’t going to change anything. I’m going to ask Veronica to marry me.”
Heyes glared at him, “I’m not sulking.” he growled.
Curry merely raised a sardonic eyebrow as he put on his hat and turned towards the door.
“O.K, maybe I am…” admitted Heyes, “but, Kid, you need to stop and think things through before you make any rash decisions.”
Curry turned back towards him, “I have thought it through.” he told him.
“No, you haven’t.” said Heyes, getting out of bed and padding towards him, “You say you’re going to ask her to marry you, but who is she gonna marry, Kid? She doesn’t know who you really are, and you can’t marry her as Thaddeus Jones, it wouldn’t be legal.”
From his friend's expression Heyes could see that he hadn’t considered the problem of Veronica not knowing their real identities, and so he pressed on.
“If you set up home with her someplace, even as Thaddeus Jones, sooner or later someone is going to come by and recognize you. What effect is it gonna have on the child if he sees you arrested and dragged off to prison, or even killed? The only way to lessen the risk of being recognized is to keep on the move, but to keep moving a woman and a small child around the country isn’t practical, or fair on them… and how would you explain the reasons why you need to keep moving without admitting who you really are?” He shook his head, “It’s impossible, Kid.”
“But he’s my son, Heyes, and I have responsibilities to him. I can’t just walk away.” Curry told him, “In my shoes, wouldn’t you feel the same?”
Heyes turned away and began to pace the room so that Curry wouldn’t see the anguish in his face. In truth, it was because he wished he was in his shoes that he was trying so hard to dissuade him from making a commitment to Veronica and he hated himself for being so selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He was trying to see the situation from all sides, but it was tearing him apart. He loved Veronica, he loved Curry like a brother, and he knew he would love the child too because it was a part of them, but he couldn’t deal with the idea of them being together as a family.
“I’m sorry, Heyes, I know how this must be making you feel.” Curry said to his back as he paused at the window and looked out through the glass with unseeing eyes.
“No, you don’t.” he replied. Curry didn’t know the half of it. He liked Veronica, yes, but he didn’t love her, not in the way that he did. He was only thinking of the child, and all Heyes could see was trouble ahead because, in his opinion, they would be marrying for all the wrong reasons. Giving the child a name, legal or otherwise, was one thing, spending thirty years with a woman you didn’t love was something else. And what did he think Heyes was going to do in the meantime?
Heyes turned to face him now, “I know you want to honour your responsibilities, Kid, I’d be disappointed in you if you didn’t, but there are other ways than this. Why don’t you just arrange to send money to them, regularly, to support them, rather than stay with them and run the risk of being recognized and getting yourself arrested or killed, or even them too - there are some who might try to use them to get at you, you know – at least until we get our amnesty, then you could come back and settle down with them, if that’s what you want.”
“I know what you’re saying, Heyes. I’m not stupid.” Curry said, indignantly, "I’ve thought about all those situations. I also know why you’re saying it; because you’re jealous that the child is mine and not yours and you just can’t stand the idea of us being together as a family.”
Heyes stared at him, hurt by his accusation but at the same time knowing that it was true. While his arguments against him staying with Veronica and the child were legitimate they were driven as much by jealousy as logic.
“Maybe I am jealous, but what I’ve said is the truth nevertheless.” he told him.
“Maybe it is, but it doesn’t change anything.” Curry said quietly.
Heyes raked his hands through his hair in exasperation, “This isn’t right, Kid. You’re doing the wrong thing for all the wrong reasons.”
“In your opinion.” Curry said flatly.
The argument raged on for most of the morning, but Curry remained resolute.
“Heyes, you can talk all you like but my mind’s made up.” he said finally, “I’m going to see Veronica, now, and ask her to marry me.”
“You can’t risk getting married legally, as Jed Curry.” Heyes reminded him, “You might as well turn yourself in to the law right now if you do. Anyhow, if you told her who you really are she’d probably send you packing anyway. She’s not gonna want an outlaw – even a reformed one – as a father for her son.”
“Then I’ll do it as Thaddeus Jones.” snapped Curry, “That’s who she believes I am, and no-one else knows any different.”
Heyes eyed him levelly, “I know different.” he told him.
Curry glared at him, looking as though he wanted to flatten him, “You wouldn’t tell on me?” he growled, his icy gaze boring into Heyes’.
Heyes stared back at him, struggling with his emotions, his head telling him to say that yes, he would - partly because it was wrong and because he would be denying his son of his rightful name and Curry of his legacy, and partly because he didn’t want them to be together – while his heart was acknowledging that there was no way he would do that to him. Even though it was tearing him apart to think of them being a family, legally or otherwise, if that was what he was determined to do, he wouldn’t stand in his way.
Curry waited, expectantly. When he didn’t answer right away, he took it to mean that Heyes was indeed prepared to expose his deception and he was furious. Turning on his heel he stormed out of the room, leaving Heyes standing there cursing himself, and Veronica for coming between them yet again.
He stood there for several minutes contemplating the consequences of the situation, before picking up his hat and slamming out of the room.
He exited the hotel and strode across to the saloon, seeing and hearing nothing, as he crossed the street, his gaze fixed on the doors of the saloon and his mind full of despair.
​
Ordering a bottle of whisky and a glass, he poured a drink and tossed it down in one gulp before pouring a second and then a third and despatching them in the same manner. He felt terrible. He hated himself for trying to dissuade the Kid from marrying Veronica, he hated the Kid for stealing her from him - even though he knew, deep down, he hadn’t, at least not deliberately, but that was how it felt - and he hated Veronica for not believing in him enough to wait for him because, if she had, they wouldn’t be in this dilemma now. He even hated her just for being here, in San Elizario. After what had happened in El Paso, he and the Kid had deliberately avoided going back there again for fear of running into her and it all starting up again. Never in a million years had he expected to see her here, and certainly not with a child in tow.
The more he drank the more angry and frustrated he became, so that when he felt a hand on his arm some hours later, and turned to see Curry at his side, he was in no mood to be pleasant.
“What are you doing?” Curry hissed into his ear, his eyes scanning the saloon for a sign of anyone showing any undue interest in Heyes or himself.
“Hav’na drink. Wha’s it look like.” slurred Heyes.
“Well, you’ve had enough. Come on back to the hotel.”
Heyes shrugged his arm off and shook his head.
“Joshua…” Curry said, in a warning tone, and then, leaning closer, added in a whisper, “It’s not safe in here. Someone might recognize you. Come on.” He took hold of Heyes’ arm and tried to steer him away from the bar, but Heyes pulled free of his grasp and took a step to the side.
“Leggo of me.” he growled as he reached for the whisky bottle, intending to refill his glass, but Curry snatched it out of his hand and banged it down on the counter, drawing a suspicious look from the bartender.
Putting enough cash down on the counter to pay for the amount of liquor Heyes had consumed he gave the bartender a broad smile and said, “Sorry, he had a bit of bad news earlier and he’s been drowning his sorrows.” Then, turning back to Heyes he took a firm grip of his arm and said, “Come on, Joshua, time for bed.” and hauled him away from the bar.
“Get off me.” Heyes protested, as he hauled him out of the saloon and half carried him across the street to the hotel. Heyes struggled to escape from his vice-like grip but he was too drunk to break free.
“Leave me alone.” he growled, as Curry shoved him upstairs and through the door to their hotel room.
“Shut up, Heyes.” Curry said flatly, as he hauled Heyes across to the bed and shoved him down on it, which didn’t take much effort on his part in Heyes’ current condition.
“Hey! Who d’ya think y’talkin’ to?” bristled Heyes, trying, and failing, to get back up off the bed as his legs refused to comply with the instruction from his brain, “Who’re you tellin’ t’shut up?”
“I’m beginning to wonder.” Curry snapped, still furious over what he believed to be a betrayal on Heyes’ part, in not confirming that he wouldn’t expose him if he chose to marry under a false name.
“Whassat supposed t’mean?”
Curry gave a cynical snort, “I thought we were partners, but you’re willing to throw that away and give away my alias, if I use it to marry Veronica, just out of jealousy? He shook his head disgustedly as he crossed to the dresser and tossed down his hat.
“Ha!” grunted Heyes, “I di’nt say that… You di’nt bother to wait around t’see what I was gonna say… you just ass--assumed.” he threw back at him, “Y’think I’d really do that? Do ya? I’m disss--dis’ppointed you have so little faith in me!” he slurred.
Curry eyed him angrily.
“If anyone’s gotta right t’be mad i’ss me.” Heyes prodded himself in the chest, “Veronica’s mine! You stole her from me… broke my heart, y’know it did.” He shook his head, and then wished he hadn’t as the room spun around him, “But f’you, I’da probably been married to her by now… and that child woulda been mine…” he prodded himself in the chest once more, “…not yours…” he wagged a finger in Curry's direction, ”You stole my future, an’ I hate ya fer it.” He raked a hand through his hair, looking close to tears, “An’ now ya wanna rub my nose in it by marryin’ her, an’ raisin’ the child that should’a been mine... an’ ya ‘spect me t’give ya my blessin’? he said bitterly, turning glazed eyes onto Curry's face, “T’aint gonna happen.” He shook his head again and nearly fell off the bed as dizziness washed over him, “I thought we were partners,” he continued, “but you’re gonna do all o’that with no consideration o’what i’ss gonna do to me.” He once again prodded himself in the chest, “Don’t our partnership… our friendship... mean anythin’ t’ya? he asked, tossing Curry a baleful look, Whaddya think I’m gonna do when you two set up home t’gether..? Y’think I’m gonna hang around, like a fifth wheel, watchin’ y’play happy families? I won’t do it…” he shook his head, “I can’t do it.”
“Heyes…”Curry began, but Heyes spoke over him.
“You don’t love her. Not like I do. Y’said it y’self… she never made you feel like I felt about her… Y’said y’couldn’t go on seein’ her knowin’ how I felt… An’ the only reason y’plannin’ t’marry her now is f’the child’s sake, not because ya love her… an’ that aint fair… You’ll both be hurt when ya realise, in a few years time, that the only thing y’have in common is the child… an’ I aint gonna sit by an’ watch her turn in on herself ‘cause she feels unloved. I aint gonna let nobody hurt her like that… not even you…” He shook his head and slumped down on the pillow as dizziness overcame him once more, “I’d… kill ya… before I’d... let ya… hurt… her…” he muttered before finally passing out.
Curry stood there for a long moment, stunned by Heyes’ anguished outpouring. He’d known how much Heyes had loved Veronica, even though he’d never openly admitted it, but he was shocked at how far he appeared to be prepared to go to protect her and deeply anguished at the dilemma he now found himself in. He couldn’t deny his new found feelings of love for his son, and in his heart he believed that marrying Veronica and taking on responsibility for her and his child was the right thing to do. But doing so would break Heyes’ heart a second time, and destroy their friendship into the bargain. It was an impossible situation.
Presently, he crossed to the bed and bent to pull the blankets over Heyes, pausing briefly, a frown creasing his brow as he regarded his friend’s drawn features. Then, straightening up, he picked his hat up off the dresser and, with a last glance over his shoulder at Heyes’ sleeping form, put it on his head and quietly left the room.
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